Guides for the Pre-Engagement Life

When Michael revealed that he was scheduled to be away for a month, he became more affectionate towards me. Whether he was on something or not, people began to take notice. Whenever we were out and about, even just grocery shopping, Michael would randomly plant a kiss or hold onto my hand. I thought it would make people squeamish, but for some reason, people praised it.
And of course, the tabloids loved it.
There were magazine photos of us near the back or in the middle, one time it reached front page when we were snapshot at a sports game and when there was a score, Michael kissed me from the joy. The titles were all about how love struck we were, how normal we interacted, the lack of interest of people's opinions, and who would forget, when the engagement ring would appear.
On the other hand, what surprised me about all the attention was that the articles, blogs and comments that people made weren't about Michael anymore, they wrote about me. I wasn't called, "Michael Phelps's Girlfriend", anymore as they called me by my name.

One time, a teenaged girl, probably 14 years of age, who trained to be an Olympian Swimmer at the Aquatic Club, once approached me while I waited for Michael to get ready to leave. She told me that she loved to read the articles in the magazines about my relationship with her idol and kept up to date with my columns, she expressed her hopes that I wouldn't end things with Michael, and she wished that one day, she would have a relationship as strong as the one I had. She praised me for being able to put up with the paparazzi, nosy people and haters, and she liked the fact that I still worked and lived my own life even though I could've well lived off of Michael's fortune.
I was speechless.
I told Michael all of the things she said, and he said that the same teenager would ask how I was doing and got really giggly whenever she saw me. Apparently, she looked up to my independence, and I didn't know how to react.

But I wasn't anyone famous. I haven't even done anything to make me so noticeable.

Pictures are Worth a Thousand Words

"Michael!" I yelled from the spare room. I had been surfing the World Wide Web, well, not really, just Facebook, since I made a personal account after much nagging from Lia. I was also held responsible of updating Michael's page whenever his hands were too busy to upload things or write things for himself - I joked that I should've gotten paid for it.
When I logged in, the first thing I saw was a picture of my sleeping form on the sofa with a blanket over my body and Herman cuddled up beside me. Most of my friends commented on it, thus the reason it was right on the top of my news feed. It was uploaded last night, probably when Michael got home from a late meeting with his Agent about his schedules in London with other Olympians for a month.
"Why are you yelling? Did something- Oh, haha!" He stood behind me and peeked through the laptop screen. He began to chuckle when he saw the image.
"You even captioned it!" I hissed. "You wrote; 'I sometimes feel stressed or overworked, but whenever I get home and see this sleeping beauty, I suddenly forget all about my worries because she's one of the reasons why I do what I do'." I read out loud. "Are you serious?"
Michael pressed his lips on the side of my cheek. "Of course," He whispered as he tossed his arms around me and hugged me from behind. His face pressed against mine. "Luckily it's not a video, because you seemed exhausted last night."
I furrowed my brows and turned my head away.
"I'm kidding, but I'm serious about what I wrote." He shook me a bit and planted kisses on my cheek each time I swayed back his way. "Were you waiting up for me last night?"
"No." I scrolled down the comments and found how many people pressed the 'like' button as well as sharing it. "More than 20 people shared this picture..."
"So? Doesn't matter what they do, because I got the real thing right here."
I leaned back and held onto his forearms. "Stop taking photos of me. This will end up on those magazines again. Remember the last one that you took?"
"Um, which one was that?"
"You've got more on here, don't you?" I quickly leaned forward and skimmed through his albums, and because I haven't been an active Facebook user, I wasn't even sure how often he would post things up. Then, as I scrolled down, I found an album that was titled, 'Anne and Herman', which I clicked on as soon as I spotted it. Michael began to chuckle as he let go of me and crossed his arms.
"There's only five in there," He admitted.
The photos were of when I played with Herman at three different places. Two were right on the sofa, two were at the park when I played fetch with the dog, and last one was in the car when the dog and I fell asleep waiting for Michael to finish training.
"I have more, you know."
"I hope you didn't post any of the ones that are more private," I warned him as I leaned my forehead against the palm of my left hand as I continued to skim through the albums.

There were about five other albums that had me in them. The first was titled, 'Anne and I', which had six photos of when we took random photos in bed when he got his new phone last year. Most of them were goofy faces, and it made me feel worried about the opinions from others because we both had morning hair and clearly looked like we just woke up.
The second was titled, 'Summer', with three photos of me and him at the beach, and I wasn't too happy with the bikini shot of me, thankfully, it was just a silhouette. He only laughed at my reaction when I saw that photo. It made my heart skip a beat from panic.
Third one was titled, 'Home', which was taken on different times of the day when I moved in with him, and he even captioned one, 'Anne trying to figure out where to put her shoe collection', where I stood against a box and stared at the shoe rack with all his shoes.
The fourth one was spread throughout all of last year, he titled it, 'NYC '09', which was a bunch of photos that he took each time he went to New York to visit me prior to moving in with him, though they were of various things, there was always a glimpse of me at the background, either giving him an odd look or just tying my hair and watching TV.
Fifth and final one was titled, 'Ann Arbor'. It had various faces, which I recognized all throughout University, and most of them were the Swim Team. But there were three of them that had me. One was before we dated, probably at Stefanie's party before we kissed, and the other two were random ones of me during parties we attended - but we were already an item right then.

"There it is!" I excitedly pointed to the screen. Michael leaned back closer to me, and he chuckled once more and said, "Oh, that one. I didn't post that. I think Ryan posted that when he helped out, remember?"
"Oh? When was this taken?"
"A week before you moved, when Ryan wanted to see what it was like in Ann Arbor."

It was taken back in Ann Arbor, after the Olympics, roughly around November, when Ryan Lochte decided to return with Michael and stayed for three days before he went to Las Vegas to party on, and he teased the hell out of me for still not living with my Olympian boyfriend yet. The photo was of Michael and me on the sofa, snuggled up and asleep. If I remembered correctly, that was the night that Ryan took us out and about, bar-hopping and drinking and whatever he wanted to do, and we returned in the early hours of the morning. We were exhausted. It was captioned, 'Collapsed from too much partying'.
When that was posted, the tabloid magazines had so much fun posting and whatever else they do that it ended up with a rumour that we moved in together, and my Parents weren't so happy about that. I was only 22 then, and they didn't like the idea I rushed things.

"That Lochte," I sighed. "You know, you two are so opposite, but you only end up going to parties and what not because you're easily influenced," I pointed out as I logged out of the social media website and stood from my seat.
"Uh, I don't think so," Michael denied as he stepped closer to me. "But I don't want you to be influenced by Ryan either, because that'll be messy business all over again."
"Huh? All over again? What do you mean?"
"Beijing," He calmly said. I thought long and hard before I narrowed my eyes and giggled innocently. He only nodded and held my hand before leading me the living room. "We have to get ready, those people are coming."
"What's the purpose for this again?" I asked as I let go of his hand and began to arrange the pillows on the sofa and made sure everything was in order, because apparently, we had a few guests over who were bringing big cameras.
"It's an interview, and then they're documenting me for an hour or something. I'm basically being stalked. I might go walk them around the neighbourhood though."
"Then what am I supposed to do? Do I have to be here?"
Michael sat down on the sofa and pulled me with him so I would sit on his lap. "I need some support," He replied. "And why can't you be there when the cameras are on?"
"I'm not a camera person. Have you seen those photos online? I look horrible."
"I don't think so, you're beautiful."
I touched my cheeks before they could tint and muttered, "I'll sit there and be quiet."
He reached forth and caressed my cheek. "You'll know what they'll ask first, right?"
"Engagement ring, I know, I know," I grumbled as I pushed myself off of him. "I do not know when you'll propose, Mr Phelps, so you'll deal with it, right?" I smiled, and before he could say anything, the doorbell rang. "Ah, just in time."

Lights, Cameras, Action!

It was nerve racking being in front of a camera, I've never been recorded for a television show before. Well, only once, after my book about dating came out and everyone was amazed at how young I was to have a book that had sold popularity within the High School and University students. I had to explain so many times that it was for those students that I wrote the book for, but then when they found out that my subject of interest was, in fact, hot shot, Michael Phelps, then everyone bought it and began to fantasize about how it was like to be dating a celebrated athlete.
Michael liked the attention, and I was overflowed with fan-mail from young women about it.

"Oh my God, Michael I look like an ass!" I complained all over again as I watched TV. He had been busy packing his things for the flight to London, and he left that night, so he was in a bit of a rush before I had to go drop him off. I pointed shakily towards the screen when he walked in, lugging his luggage and looking at my complaint.
"Anne, you look fine," He debated as he placed his luggage to the side and placed all the other things he needed. I didn't pay much attention to him because I concentrated more on what I looked like on TV. We were on an entertainment channel after the editing of the interview the other day. I cupped my face into my hands as I sat there like a child with my legs crossed and sitting straight.
I didn't like what I looked like, but when the comments popped up, the hosts were happy about the whole documentation and the comments from the viewers were all positive. I felt relieved - slightly relieved, because then I knew that people weren't critiquing me again.
"I have half an hour before we go," Michael blurted out as he stood up once he locked up his luggage. He turned to me with a cheeky smile as I still didn't look towards him. "Anne," He called. "Are you listening?"
"Huh?" I shook my head and turned his way. "What is it, honey? Is everything okay?"
"I said that I have half an hour left."
"What do you want to do? Do you want to eat?"
"Maybe turn off the TV," He suggested as he sat beside me and reached for the remote control. He turned it off and tossed the remote control to the other chair, and he turned his attention to me once more and pulled me towards him so I straddled him. I slid my hands up his chest and slowly around his neck as I muttered, "I'll miss you while you're gone."
His hands trailed up my thighs to my waist where he kept them there. "A month will go by just like that, but I know that I'll have trouble sleeping without you next to me."
"Cuddle Lochte," I teased. We both chuckled and shook our head at the same time. I pressed my forehead against his and stared deep into his brown eyes. "Behave yourself while you're there," I whispered. "I'll behave myself too."
"You better, I don't want to be reading that my girlfriend was up to something."
"Hey, it's you that should be careful. If I read something about you that I won't like then-"
"-I'm not risking it," He interrupted. "If I lose you, then I'm an idiot."
I giggled and kissed his nose. "Come on, Mr Phelps, we need to get you on that plane so you can have your one month break from your girlfriend," I spoke as I pulled him up to his feet. He gripped onto my hand and pulled me into a smooch. It felt weird for him to leave me that long. I survived the two months he was away after the Olympics, why did it feel weird when he was only away for a month?

At the airport, Michael and I had wrapped our arms around each other since we arrived, it was like we were too afraid to let go. Honestly, I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to be apart from him since our time in Valentine's Day. But he belonged to the people - I didn't want to be too greedy and selfish.
That was Lia. She grew to be selfish in order to keep Derek at bay and the critiques backed away when she placed a line on their relationship. They respected her. Maybe because I was a pushover, everyone still had things to mutter about me behind my back.
Sometimes, I wished I had her fierce attitude.
Michael tried to get my attention again when I began to lose track of my attention towards him and whatever he was saying. I looked back at him and said, "I'm sorry, honey, I was just thinking of something..."
"You've been doing that a lot. Is something wrong?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "Nothing that I know of, I don't even understand it myself..." I replied as we reached the boarding area. There were people taking photographs from a far, and I knew that others were paparazzi because their cameras were far too fancy and massive to have belonged to a normal tourist or bystanders.
"Well, when you know, make sure to tell me, okay?" He leaned down and pecked my lips. "I love you. Behave yourself."
I nodded. "You behave yourself too. I love you."
"One month won't be that long," He whispered as Derek called him to hurry up. He kissed me one more time before he walked away. I could only wave before he faded in a distance.

I felt some kind of hunch that something was going to happen, and it bugged me a lot throughout the passing month because I wasn't sure whether or not it was a good hunch or a bad one. It began to be a nuisance because I couldn't concentrate on whatever I was doing, and even a simple jog in the morning with Lia had me distracted.
I didn't know what it was, but something was about to happen, I didn't exactly know what.

One Month Later...

"Babe," Michael called from the living room. He got sick after his trip to London with Derek and the other Olympians as part of their endorsement commitment to Speedo, and after a time away from home, he got back with a fever, blocked nose and sore throat. It wasn't just him though, apparently, Ryan Lochte called him the morning after they arrived and blamed him for getting sick as well, Derek only got a blocked nose, another Swimmer and Michael's agent, Peter, suffered a fever.
"What have you been doing in London that made you and the other Olympians sick?" I asked as I returned from the kitchen and sat beside him. "Wait, if you guys were doing something that I don't want to know about... Then don't tell me."
"We went drinking and partying."
"So, were people sick at that bar or club or something? You weren't-"
"-I wasn't doing anything to hurt you or involving any girl," He cut in. His voice was husky and he looked pale. "Besides," He sniffed. "I get to be babied while I'm sick."
"Maybe you partied too much." I shook my head. "And I'm not going to baby you, this is your fault," I sternly growled at him. But that didn't stop him from leaning over and lying down on my lap, the blanket wrapped around him as he let out a groan. I swept my fingers through his messy brown hair, his temperature was slightly high. I leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I baby you anyway, honey, why do you need extra treatment?"
"Because I'm sick," He groaned as he wrapped his arm around my legs and shuffled about for comfort. "You'll take care of me every time I get sick, right?"
"Of course, what makes you think that I won't?"
"I don't know, I thought that you might get sick of me..." His voice trailed off, and when I took a peek, he had fallen asleep.
I had to get used to those types of situations, there would be plenty more of him being sick in the future, especially if I end up spending the rest of my life with him.

One Week Later.

"Ah, Michael, this is your fault!" I groaned in bed followed by a sneeze. I had the blanket wrapped around me with all the layers of clothing I could wear and I was in bed. Michael was all healthy and alive, but I caught whatever bug he brought with him.
"I'm sorry," He whispered into my ear as he hugged me from behind. "It's my turn to take care of you now, and probably baby you."
"You better," I grumbled. The sound of my voice was horrible, it was husky, sick and really not that pleasing. "You should stop passing your sickness to me. This is the fifth time."
"You sound sexy with your voice like this," Michael teased. He knew I didn't like it.
"Ugh." I rolled my eyes and turned my head away as I tossed the pillow over my head. I tried to wriggle him off as he slightly leaped to the other side and cuddled me.
"It's not my fault that you-"
"-You kiss me when I don't expect it. That's direct contact. Of course I'd get sick!"
Michael let out a chuckle. "Rather moody today, aren't you, Anne?"
I peeked from beneath the pillow to glare at him, and he wrinkled his nose which showed that he found it cute. I shook my head and muttered, "You think?"
He pulled the pillow from over my head and stole a kiss. "I'll take care of you, always."
I closed my eyes. "You better," I exhaled as a yawn followed. He gently placed the pillow under my head and whispered, "I promise. I love you."
"I love you too." I yawned before everything darkened.

Although... Why did it suddenly feel weird for me? Why did my heart suddenly ache? My gut was being a pain, what was it trying to tell me?